Sunday

The sound of metal tools falling on asphalt and loud voices are unnerving when they're under your window. This morning I heard a cool sound when I was sitting outside with my notebook--the aluminum bat hitting a baseball!

My quaking Aspen tree is dangling pollen like a 1920's flapper dress. We have high pollen alert this whole week. I have taken everything in the medicine cupboard-- As my pal David Shiner says, God made the drugs. If I space out and miss an antihistamine I pay dearly.

We will defrost and roast our turkey as our special 28 year anniversary thing. Hopefully the neighbors won't ruin our backyard privacy. All night I dream of stockade fences.

I think I should sew dinner napkins but I never do. But when I do, I am unable to wipe my mouth on them.

Someone was throwing out a black leather chair. I almost stripped it for the leather. Anita, my 96 year old friend told me, during the Great Depression she fished out rags from the trash and sewed them into dresses for herself. Her two mean sisters and mean mother went to teaching college but made her stay home. Back then one child was always Cinderella, told to stay living at home.